Justice
by the arsonist
Summary: Justice, she was supposed to be on your side. Chapter 293 spoilers, contains profanity.


You stumble briefly, hand flashing out to save yourself only to grip nothing, only to fall flat on your face.

It's a foreign feeling. You were so accustomed to rising to the occasion, to succeed. And now look at you.

You crawl forward like the blinded piece of shit that you are. Your mind is fixated on one detail that makes the anger swell and the taste of blood and salt on your tongue renew itself over and over again:

You _lost_. You completley and utterly lost, and to _him,_ no less.

He always said that you were too weak, and look at that. He was right, you were wrong. Justice, she was supposed to be on _your _side, and that stupid blind bitch stabbed you right in the back. Stabbed you in the back and let you live, to add insult to injury.

One of your hands touch the empty hole where your eyes should be, and you shudder, the feeling of nausea rising in your stomach so that you can taste the bile in your throat. A hand grips your shoulder, and you freeze up. The nails dig into your bare shoulder, and you squirm and try to get away, writhing in your own little personal hell.

Footsteps follow, walking around your prostrate figure and stopping in front of you. You lash out dumbly, butscream as one of the feet stomp down on your wrist, grinding the heel so hard that you feel the tendons and bones give way, an audible _snap!_ causing you to howl even louder.

What the fuck are you _doing_?!

You hear a satisfied "Hmmph"--your ears still work, dumbshit--and the hand's grip tightens. The smell of sweat and blood is overpowering, _your own sweat and blood..._The figure, whomever he is, leans down, and you sense that he is staring right at you in his crouched position, foot still on your wrist. You pant and gasp, trying to keep from crying and pulling back, but now that you are blind, you cannot resist the urge to flee.

And then you hear it: the low laugh that rises from the pit of one's stomach and resonatesfrom the kind of person that deserves to spend the rest of their life in torture and agony.

No doubt about it. It's _his_ laugh.

And then the devil speaks to you, lips so close that you can feel the breath on the bridge of your nose. It's a whisper, but it feels like he's screaming it into your ear, like his words are burning you alive.

_Foolish little brother._

If you could see, you would know that he was not smiling; he was _grinning._ You can already imagine his new eyes, the pinwheel transformed and the slender build of his face and physique in front of you--these are vivid memories burned into your mind. His hand was no longer on your shoulder; it was now entangled in the nape of your neck, gripping your hair tightly and tilting your head back painfully. You pathetic thing, you're trying to push him away weakly, but you can't find him in front of you if you insist on groping randomly at nothing but thin air. He can outdance you; he already did.

A flash of metal--something else you can't see--and you feel the skin at your neck grow cold as the blade pushes up against you. You freeze, weak little shit that you are, and he notices. The hand leaves your neck slowly, brushing over your jaw, your cheek and where your eyes used to be before resting on your forehead. And he pokes you there, that little innocent move from so long ago that doesn't seem so innocent anymore.

_Why would you want justice, otouto? Didn't you know that Justice...is blind too?_

The blade tears the skin at your throat, and you try to scream, but all you get is a choked gurgle as the blood runs over your neck and down your chest. You try to breathe, but you can't. You can't do anything anymore.

And then the sun wakes you up.

You squeeze your eyes as if that will make them close more. After this doesn't work, you finally open them and see that no, you aren't blind. You're still beat up pretty badly, but at least you are alive. You're spread out like a martyr, face turned to the sky as you shade your eyes--at least you have them--from the sun's strong gaze.

That's about all the energy you have.

Something stirs, and you look over to the left. And there: his fallen form also staring at the sky, eyes wide open and bleeding. You think he's dead, but the shallow rising and falling of his chest shows that he is still clutching on dearly, even though it is only a matter of time. And as you look at him silently, you notice that he, not you, is blind.

As if he hears your thoughts, his head turns slowly to face you--how did he know you were there?--and coughs lightly, blood bubbling at his mouth. Slowly he blinks, once, twice, before he half-closes his eyes and looks down at the ground upon which he will die.

He cannot say anything to you anymore. And even if he did, you wouldn't be able to hear it. Your body is fatigued and even now you are being pulled into the dark world of sleep. Your eyes close, and the last thing you see are his last moments in the world.

Justice, she was supposed to be on your side. And the stupid blind bitch, she actually pulled through.

You won.


End file.
